Free Why Didnt They Ask Evans by Agatha Christie Page B

well. I've never heard you talk so much before.' George sighed. He looked at his watch.
    'I shall give my examination another three minutes,' he said.
    'What about the car?' 'I'll arrange with a garage to have that cleared up.' 'Good.' George continued to study his watch. Finally he said with an air of relief: 'Time.' 'George,' said Frankie, 'you've been an angel. I don't know why you did it.' 'No more do I,' said George. 'Damn fool thing to do.' He nodded to her.
    'Bye bye. Enjoy yourself.' 'I wonder if I shall,' said Frankie.
    She was thinking of that cool impersonal voice with the slight American accent.
    George went in search of the owner of it, whom he found waiting for him in the drawing-room.
    'Well,' he said abruptly. 'I'm glad to say it's not so bad as I feared. Concussion very slight and already passing off. She ought to stay quietly where she is for a day or so, though.' He paused. 'She seems to be a Lady Frances Derwent.' 'Oh, fancy!' said Mrs Bassington-ffrench. 'Then I know some cousins of hers - the Draycotts - quite well.' 'I don't know if it's inconvenient for you to have her here,' said George. 'But if she could stay where she is for a day or two...' Here George paused.
    'Oh, of course. That will be all right, Dr -?' 'Arbuthnot. By the way, I'll see to the car business. I shall be passing a garage.' 'Thank you very much, Dr Arbuthnot. How very lucky you happened to be passing. I suppose a doctor ought to see her tomorrow just to see she's getting on all right.' 'Don't think it's necessary,' said George. 'All she needs is quiet.' 'But I should feel happier. And her people ought to know.' 'I'll attend to that,' said George. 'And as to the doctoring business - well, it seems she's a Christian Scientist and won't have doctors at any price. She wasn't too pleased at finding me in attendance.' 'Oh, dear!' said Mrs Bassingtonffrench.
    'But she'll be quite all right,' said George reassuringly. 'You can take my word for it.' 'If you really think so, Dr Arbuthnot,' said Mrs Bassingtonffrench rather doubtfully.
    'I do,' said George. 'Goodbye. Dear me. I left one of my instruments in the bedroom.' He came rapidly into the room and up to the bedside.
    Trankie,' he said in a quick whisper. 'You're a Christian Scientist. Don't forget.' 'But why?' 'I had to do it. Only way.' 'All right,' said Frankie. 'I won't forget."

Why Didnt They Ask Evans

CHAPTER 12 In the Enemy's Camp
    'Well, here I am,' thought Frankie. 'Safely in the enemy's camp. Now, it's up to me.' There was a tap on the door and Mrs BassingtonfFrench entered.
    Frankie raised herself a little on her pillows.
    'I'm so frightfully sorry,' she said in a faint voice. 'Causing you all this bother.' 'Nonsense,' said Mrs Bassington-ffrench. Frankie heard anew that cool attractive drawling voice with a slight American accent, and remembered that Lord Marchington had said that one of the Hampshire Bassington-ffrenches had married an American heiress. 'Dr Arbuthnot says you will be quite all right in a day or two if you just keep quiet.' Frankie felt that she ought at this point to say something about 'error' or 'mortal mind', but was frightened of saying the wrong thing.
    'He seems nice,' she said. 'He was very kind.' 'He seemed a most capable young man,' said Mrs Bassington-ffrench. 'It was very fortunate that he just happened to be passing.' 'Yes, wasn't it? Not, of course, that I really needed him.' 'But you mustn't talk,' continued her hostess. 'I'll send my maid along with some things for you and then she can get you properly into bed.' 'It's frightfully kind of you.' 'Not at all.' Frankie felt a momentary qualm as the other woman withdrew.
    'A nice kind creature,' she said to herself. 'And beautifully unsuspecting.' For the first time she felt that she was playing a mean trick on her hostess. Her mind had been so taken up with the vision of a murderous Bassington-ffrench pushing an unsuspecting victim over a precipice that lesser characters in the drama had not